Hannibal Lecter smirked as he emptied the packet into the mixing bowl. No one had found out, not yet. He was safe.

Those imbeciles who work at the FBI only ever made their own food, ha! Well, look who's going to have time to catch the next America's Next Top Model marathon whilst their delectable food is cooking in the oven for 20-25 minutes. Not Will, that's for sure.

The bastard did not even need gloves; it was simply mix the mixture with an egg, vegetable oil and water, none of this fancy chopping and slicing, no pre-warmed plates or fresh exotic meats. Preparing meat is gooey and cold, and Dr Lecter was far too fancy for that kind of crap.

Will walked into the kitchen whilst Hannibal's back was turned. He lowered his brow thoughtfully and leaned to the side to see what the box was on the counter in front of Hannibal.

"Dr Lecter….is that…. Betty Crocker?"

"WILL! Oh god you made me jump. Jesus fuck almighty William!"

"Are you cheating?" Will knew Hannibal would probably come up with some pretentious riddle or metaphor instead of just a straight out answer. He's basically the Augustus Waters of psychiatry.

"But Will, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it not see an easier way to get water"- He was trying. Now Will knew, there was no getting out of it. Oh, how foolish of him, why didn't he just choose cannibalism?

"Will Graham of the FBI…I need bake-up" Will said through his phone.

Oh god- baking-how had it come to this of all things? Hannibal thought anxiously as he twiddled his thumbs which is totally not in character but just roll with me guys, okay?

Hannibal could hear the cars parking outside his huge compensating-for-something mansion. The baking utensils! OH GOD NOT THE BAKING UTENSILS. They were so so close, a single drop of criminal sweat rolled down his forehead as Will's gun remained aimed at his forehead.

Jack Crawford burst through the door.

"DID SOMEONE ORDER BAKE-UP' he screamed in a sing-songy tone.

Jack noticed Hannibal in the corner, his cheating forehead oozing with criminal sweat. 'sick bastard' he thought.

"To think I dined at your table, eating your filth. You're disgusting Dr Lecter" Jack yelled, still singing.

Hannibal just stared at him, his eyes becoming wet and his throat feeling like it was swelling. BUT NO! HE MUST NOT CRY!

"ARITE LET'S GO GET THIS MOTHERFUCKING BAKE-UP STARTED YA' LIL' WANK"- he screamed, grabbing Will Graham, putting a knife against his throat.

"LET HIM GO. LET HIM GO. YOU CAN'T DAMAGE WILL ANYMOREEEEE"

"YOU WILL NEVER BE ELSA YOU ABSALUTE WANK COCK DUNKING SPIT STEALER AHHHHHHH"

"I WILL AND I AM"

"I am actually Will and I am about to be murdered please help" cried Will

"OH GOD WILL NOBODY CARES YOU UNSTABLE DICK PLACEMAT. COME 'ERE YA LITTLE SHITE" Hannibal dug the knife into Will's throat and slit it quickly. Blood splattered all over the kitchen god that's gonna be a bitch to clean."

"NO YOU KILLED THE HOT ONE" Jack screeched at Hannibal, lurching forward with his gun, aiming at Lecter.

" WE'RE GONNA HAVE A BAKE OFF AND I'M USING WILL'S LARYNX FOR THE MEAT. YOU'RE BULLYING HAS LEAD ME TO A LIFE OF CANNIBALISM I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY YOU TITTYBOOB" Hannibal reached into Will open bloody neck and tore out the larynx. Will, still conscious, would have screamed in pain, but he couldn't because he had no fucking larynx. Hannibal wacked the gun from Jack's hand, shoving Will's larynx into his mouth, tackling him down forcing him to chew and swallow.

"Oh, that's actually kind of nice I guess. Wow, oh my god it is." Jack complimented once he had finished.

Will, again, would have said 'that's my fucking larynx', but he has no larynx now, so-.

"Hannibal, you have proven to me that you are actually a grade A chef. You're off the hook! Well done my friend. Come on Will." Jack picked Will up and left.

~fin~